He drew her in closer, until their chests were nearly flush against each other and he whispered,
“You do not have to do anything. You have nothing to prove to anyone. I do not care about anyone else.”
Jane pouted, surprised that she had been found out already.
“I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it from you. I was enjoying myself with you – I mean, I am!” she stated resolutely.
“I know, darling,” her smiled, caressing her cheek. “Though I will admit that it was entertaining to see you laugh suddenly.”
“It wasn’t sudden! You have an impressive sense of humour,” she told him defiantly.
“I am not as funny as you would like to trick me to believe. I know the extent of my skills and that is not one of them,” Thomas shook his head.
“I promise, you are quite humorous,” Jane declared, lifting her chin higher as a sign of determination.
“Perhaps, but not as funny as the duke of Westerdale who has apparently returned you to your affairs when he was not interested in being your brother at the moment. Makes me imagine that he can thought of the interaction as simple as returning a pair of borrowed shoes.”
This made her burst out in laughter, garnering the attention of onlookers. Thomas protectively drew her closers to him, smiling down at her as his grip on her waist tightened slightly. He watched Jane as she fought to get her mirth under control, and when she had managed to settle down, Thomas leaned towards her and whispered softly,
“I want to draw you now.”
Jane’s eyes snapped to his in surprise.
“Now?” she asked, blinking at him.
Thomas nodded curtly and while Jane found it to be an odd request – given the time and place – but she found it difficult to refuse him in that moment. He had a look in his eyes that sent shivers down her spine, and soon, she found herself nodding.
“A-All right,” she agreed.
The music came to a stop moments later and she allowed him to lead her off the dance floor and out of the ballroom.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jane tried to focus on the scents in the hallway outside the ballroom as she followed Thomas. It was nice, to be distracted by the smell of candles and crushed flowers, rather than focused on what they were about to do.
The music filtered through the walls in a muffled way, almost dreamlike, as though the whole party were happening in a whole other world, while she was here, following her husband down a corridor neither of them had never walked before.
Although she had visited Penelope and Cecil a few times before and had been given a tour of their estate, she had never been down this way, and one would never suspect it. Not with how confidently Thomas led her from one hallway to the next, now with how she assuredly she followed him.
Perhaps she should ask where they were going.
His hand was at the small of her back – barely touching, just the suggestion of pressure through the silk of her dress – and it was enough to keep her moving forward without argument. She watched the candlelight shift across his jaw as he tried each door they passed, finding them locked or occupied until the third one opened onto a small drawing room, dimly lit by the fire in the fireplace.
Thomas stepped inside, held the door open for her and beckoned her inside with a small nod. Jane inhaled deeply and walked in, unable to shake off the urge to shiver when he closed the door behind them.
The room was modest by Penelope's standards – a settee, a writing desk, two armchairs flanking a fireplace. A decanter of something amber sat on the mantle and on the other side of the room, bookshelves lined the far wall. Jane's eyes adjusted to the low lighting as Thomas moved to the desk, pulling open the shallow drawer and running his fingers along the interior until he produced a stub of pencil and a folded sheet of paper.
“You came prepared,” Jane said, because she needed to say something.
With the passing moments, she was losing more and more of her boldness, which said little about her.
“I wish I had such amazing foresight,” He huffed, his tone light with amusement as he set the pencil and paper on the top of the desk. “Fortunately, your friend keeps a well-stocked desk.”
He moved toward her slowly, every inch closer deliberate in the way he always was, like a man who had decided on something and saw no reason to pretend otherwise. He reached past her and turned the small lock on the door, the click of it seemingly echoing in the quiet room.
Jane felt her heart jump slightly and she tried to convince him that perhaps this was not ideal after all.
“Thomas, I am not sure if this –”
